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Anderson Hills

Author: Susan Mahaney

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We are a community of believers in a suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. We have both modern and traditional worship.
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Red is the color of blood, of warning, and of sacrifice. It’s also the color of the Red Sea, where God’s people were delivered from slavery into freedom. Just as Israel passed through water from slavery to freedom, we pass through the blood of Christ from sin to salvation. During Lent, we remember that salvation came at a cost. Red reminds us of the Lamb who was slain, whose blood marks our deliverance. Just as Israel passed through water to freedom, we pass through the cross to life.
Red is the color of blood, of warning, and of sacrifice. It’s also the color of the Red Sea, where God’s people were delivered from slavery into freedom. Just as Israel passed through water from slavery to freedom, we pass through the blood of Christ from sin to salvation. During Lent, we remember that salvation came at a cost. Red reminds us of the Lamb who was slain, whose blood marks our deliverance. Just as Israel passed through water to freedom, we pass through the cross to life.
Brown reminds us of wood — rough timbers, heavy planks. Noah’s ark was made of brown wood. Brown reminds us of earth and dust, and in Lent we remember that we too are dust, and to dust we will return. The flood came. Judgment fell. But Noah and his family were safe inside the ark. We see the gospel pattern here. Sin cannot be ignored. But grace provides shelter. The ark points us to the cross. Brown wooden beams once carried Noah to safety. And another wooden cross carries us to salvation in Christ. In Christ, we are sheltered and saved.
Brown reminds us of wood — rough timbers, heavy planks. Noah’s ark was made of brown wood. Brown reminds us of earth and dust, and in Lent we remember that we too are dust, and to dust we will return. The flood came. Judgment fell. But Noah and his family were safe inside the ark. We see the gospel pattern here. Sin cannot be ignored. But grace provides shelter. The ark points us to the cross. Brown wooden beams once carried Noah to safety. And another wooden cross carries us to salvation in Christ. In Christ, we are sheltered and saved.
We start with green — the color of life and growth, but also the color that reminds us of the serpent in the Garden. After God finished His creation, He declared it was very good. It was a world in perfect harmony. Oceans pure, skies clear, foliage lush, green and fruitful, relationships whole. No sin, no shame, no death. This is how Lent begins, by remembering the good God intended. But Lent also reminds us that the beauty we long for is not the beauty we always see. Creation still groans. Our lives still ache. And the question of Lent is this: What went wrong? Why do we feel so far from Eden?
We start with green — the color of life and growth, but also the color that reminds us of the serpent in the Garden. After God finished His creation, He declared it was very good. It was a world in perfect harmony. Oceans pure, skies clear, foliage lush, green and fruitful, relationships whole. No sin, no shame, no death. This is how Lent begins, by remembering the good God intended. But Lent also reminds us that the beauty we long for is not the beauty we always see. Creation still groans. Our lives still ache. And the question of Lent is this: What went wrong? Why do we feel so far from Eden?
Last week, the veil was torn, and the door opened. This week, we step into the room and see what’s at the center: the Ark of the Covenant, God’s throne on earth. The Ark carried evidence of humanity’s failure: the broken commandments, the manna, and the rod. But God didn’t remove them; He covered them. Mercy doesn’t dismiss truth; it transforms how truth is applied. Over the law lay the Mercy Seat, the golden lid where blood was applied, and glory appeared. The Mercy Seat was the literal meeting place of heaven and earth, where justice and grace joined.
Last week, the veil was torn, and the door opened. This week, we step into the room and see what’s at the center: the Ark of the Covenant, God’s throne on earth. The Ark carried evidence of humanity’s failure: the broken commandments, the manna, and the rod. But God didn’t remove them; He covered them. Mercy doesn’t dismiss truth; it transforms how truth is applied. Over the law lay the Mercy Seat, the golden lid where blood was applied, and glory appeared. The Mercy Seat was the literal meeting place of heaven and earth, where justice and grace joined.
The Holy of Holies was the most sacred space in the tabernacle, hidden behind a thick veil that symbolized the unbridgeable divide between a holy God and sinful people. Only the high priest could enter, and only once a year. But when Jesus breathed His last, that veil was torn from top to bottom. The separation ended. The climax of worship is not what we bring to God, but what He opened for us: direct, confident access to His presence.
The Holy of Holies was the most sacred space in the tabernacle, hidden behind a thick veil that symbolized the unbridgeable divide between a holy God and sinful people. Only the high priest could enter, and only once a year. But when Jesus breathed His last, that veil was torn from top to bottom. The separation ended. The climax of worship is not what we bring to God, but what He opened for us: direct, confident access to His presence.
The outer court of the Tabernacle was about access and atonement. The inner sanctuary was about abiding and adoration. Inside, three sacred furnishings illuminated the ministry of worship: The Golden Lampstand – the light of the Spirit. The Table of Showbread – the nourishment of Christ. The Altar of Incense – the fragrance of prayer. Together they reveal that worship is not an event; it’s a continual ministry of light, communion, and intercession before the Lord.
The outer court of the Tabernacle was about access and atonement. The inner sanctuary was about abiding and adoration. Inside, three sacred furnishings illuminated the ministry of worship: The Golden Lampstand – the light of the Spirit. The Table of Showbread – the nourishment of Christ. The Altar of Incense – the fragrance of prayer. Together they reveal that worship is not an event; it’s a continual ministry of light, communion, and intercession before the Lord.
Having entered through the gate and offered sacrifice at the altar, the priest would move next to the Bronze Laver, a basin of water for washing hands and feet before entering the Holy Place. This was more than ritual hygiene; it was spiritual preparation. The Laver teaches that God not only forgives sin, He also purifies hearts. The altar deals with guilt; the laver deals with grime. In Christ, both are complete: He cleanses us by His blood and continually renews us through His Word.
When worshippers entered the tabernacle courtyard, they encountered the altar. It stood between the gate and every other act of worship, an unavoidable reminder that access to God is always costly. The altar was Israel’s price of admission into God’s presence. It reminded them that holiness isn’t cheap, and sin has consequences. But it also reminded them that God had made a way for mercy through sacrifice. The altar was not decorative; it was declarative. It declared that sin costs life.
When worshippers entered the tabernacle courtyard, they encountered the altar. It stood between the gate and every other act of worship, an unavoidable reminder that access to God is always costly. The altar was Israel’s price of admission into God’s presence. It reminded them that holiness isn’t cheap, and sin has consequences. But it also reminded them that God had made a way for mercy through sacrifice. The altar was not decorative; it was declarative. It declared that sin costs life.
The first step toward the presence of God was through a single, distinct entry point — the gate of the outer court. It was the one way in. There were no side doors, no secret paths. Worship began the moment a worshipper chose to enter God’s way rather than their own. That gate foreshadows Jesus. His body became the doorway to God’s presence. There is no other entry point into a relationship with the Father. Jesus is not one of many access points to God; He is the access point.
The first step toward the presence of God was through a single, distinct entry point — the gate of the outer court. It was the one way in. There were no side doors, no secret paths. Worship began the moment a worshipper chose to enter God’s way rather than their own. That gate foreshadows Jesus. His body became the doorway to God’s presence. There is no other entry point into a relationship with the Father. Jesus is not one of many access points to God; He is the access point.
Before there was a church, before there was a temple, there was a tent, a tabernacle in the wilderness. And in that tent, God was teaching His people how to worship – not just what to build, but who to become. Moses’s tabernacle is the heavenly pattern for worship, not just a physical structure, but a spiritual rhythm that still forms God’s people today. The tabernacle is not ultimately about construction; it’s about connection. It’s about God coming near.
Before there was a church, before there was a temple, there was a tent, a tabernacle in the wilderness. And in that tent, God was teaching His people how to worship – not just what to build, but who to become. Moses’s tabernacle is the heavenly pattern for worship, not just a physical structure, but a spiritual rhythm that still forms God’s people today. The tabernacle is not ultimately about construction; it’s about connection. It’s about God coming near.
Matthew’s genealogy moves through generation after generation of broken people, surprising names, and flawed kings. Then, at the very end, everything changes: “and Mary was the mother of Jesus, who is called the Messiah.” For 42 generations, the story had been built toward this moment. As we head into a New Year, we remember that all the sin, shame, and struggle carried through that family line led to a baby born in Bethlehem—God with us. Worship not only the child in the manger but the Savior on the throne and take your place in the family story He came to write.
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